


this town ain't big enough for the both of us

by brophigenia



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alive Henrik Mikaelson, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Compulsion, Crime Boss Klaus Mikaelson, Dark Comedy, Dark Klaus Mikaelson, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, F/M, Human Caroline Forbes, Humor, Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson, Kidnapping, Kinda?, Memory Loss, NO ACTUAL DATE RAPE OCCURS, Sheriff Caroline Forbes, Vaginal Sex, Vampires, because i make the damn rules, but it's humorous, it's a lot like that, kinda? sorta?, remember how they treated camille in season one of the originals?, see notes for more info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: He kept leaving hergifts.Not jewelry or chocolates or roses, but perps. Drug dealers and petty thieves and carjackers, rapists and stalkers and peeping toms, practically fuckinggift-wrapped.It had to be him, because nobody else could make these guys so afraid that they’d walk themselves into her police station and confess just to save their own necks.Caroline just… didn’t know what to do with that.(AKA, Caroline is the sheriff in Mystic Falls. Klaus is possibly a serial killer, definitely some kind of mob boss, and kind of horribly, inconveniently hot.)
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79
Collections: Klaroline Winter Gift Exchange 2021





	this town ain't big enough for the both of us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slstmaraudersjple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slstmaraudersjple/gifts).



> TRIGGER WARNING: ROOFIES/DRUGGING  
> SPOILERS!!! GO TO END NOTES TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS BUT SPOILERS!!

_ if i had a heart,  _

_ i could love you. _

_ *** _

“You—“ Caroline sputtered, looking for a word to describe just how  _ horrible  _ Klaus Mikaelson was. “You— you—  _ jerk!  _ You big, giant, awful  _ jerk!”  _ She only just barely suppressed the stomp that her left foot begged to do, encased in its regulation boot. She was the  _ sheriff.  _ She did  _ not  _ stomp her foot like a child. 

“Oh, luv,” Klaus returned, grinning broadly, his eyes doing that weird-  _ glow thing, _ like, was that some kind of cornea disease? “I don’t know why you’re so upset.” 

That was it. That was  _ it.  _

Caroline stomped her left foot, boot thudding dully on the floor, and flexed her hands in the air like she wanted to ball them up into fists and  _ attack.  _ She pointedly did  _ not  _ reach for her sidearm, but it was a close damn thing.

“You know  _ exactly  _ why, Mikaelson!” She gestured violently to the badge glinting on his chest.  _ Councilman,  _ it read, an antique holdover from the days of Civil War battles and burned-down churches. Mystic Falls was a debutante town, a belle on the outskirts of Virginia’s Confederate territory. There were cotillion balls, reenactments, and  _ shiny town councilman badges.  _ Badges that  _ should  _ reflect the town’s stringent democratic process and now had been corrupted by one Klaus Mikaelson, who she was  _ sure  _ was behind more than three-quarters of the crime in her town. 

_ Her  _ town, because Caroline was Sheriff Forbes, like her mother had been before her, before she’d been diagnosed with the brain tumor. Before she’d died. 

Now there was just Caroline, plus a couple erstwhile deputies, keeping the peace in this place. It was the 21st century. There were  _ way  _ too many ‘animal attacks’ for a town as small and safe as Mystic Falls. 

“Au contraire, Sheriff. I was as shocked as you at this… most fortuitous turn of events.” Klaus called out over his shoulder, spinning on one heel and striding off with his cell phone ringing insistently. She could hear the smile in his voice evaporate as he answered it with a harsh  _ what?  _

“You can’t shoot him, Care.” Matt sighed wearily from behind her. Caroline realized she’d zoned out with her hand on her hip holster. She shook herself. 

“I wasn’t going to  _ shoot him,  _ Matt.” She mumbled petulantly. “Let’s go, it’s time to serve this month’s evictions.” 

***

“Mikaelson.” Caroline sighed, for what felt like the fortieth time in a single day. Henrik, the youngest of the Mikaelson brood, gave her what he probably thought was a charming smile and shrug. In all actuality, he looked like the poster child for the dangers of truancy in adolescence. “One phone call.” She said, and jerked her head towards the payphone on the wall, an ancient relic she could remember her mother’s collars using, too, since she was young enough to peer out the window of Liz’s office door. 

Henrik grimaced, then brightened, then grimaced again when she spoke.  _ “Not  _ one of your little friends.” She reminded him. “A relative over the age of 18 or a lawyer.”  _ Preferably not Klaus,  _ she’d’ve liked to add, but there were regulations about that sort of thing. Civil liberties and all that. God. It was too late for these kind of shenanigans. She was supposed to be at the Mystic Grill right now, on a  _ date.  _ Not arresting the littlest Mikaelson for trespassing. 

_ Again.  _

“Marcel?” The boy said into the phone, hopeful and bright, his cuffed hands struggling to hold the phone’s receiver. She’d learned her lesson about  _ not  _ cuffing him three arrests ago. “Yeah. No.  _ No.  _ Please don’t-” Henrik sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek.  _ “Fine.”  _ He hung up the phone with more force than was strictly necessary, in Caroline’s humble opinion. 

“Bad news, kiddo?” She asked, steering him to the holding cell with a firm hand on his elbow. “Nobody coming to get you?” 

“Worse.” Henrik replied glumly, as Caroline closed the cell door and he slumped on the bench.  _ “Rebekah.”  _

Great. Just what Caroline needed. If there was anything worse than  _ Klaus  _ Mikaelson, it was his baby sister. 

Caroline went to go take two preemptive Tylenol, already anticipating the headache she was going to develop by the end of  _ this  _ night. 

***

The problem was that Klaus wasn’t even like,  _ the worst.  _

Or, he  _ was,  _ but he wasn’t like,  _ evil.  _

Or, he  _ was,  _ but-

He kept leaving her  _ gifts.  _ Not jewelry or chocolates or roses, but  _ perps.  _ Drug dealers and petty thieves and carjackers, rapists and stalkers and peeping toms, practically fucking  _ gift-wrapped.  _ It had to be him, because nobody else could make these guys so afraid that they’d walk themselves into her police station and confess just to save their own necks. 

Caroline just… didn’t know what to  _ do  _ with that. 

Should she send a ‘thank you’ card? What did you  _ say  _ to the  _ definitely evil crime boss  _ who kept sending you criminals and single-handedly raised her solved case ratio almost forty-five percent in a  _ month?  _

It made it really hard to hate him, was the point. Really hard to ignore how good he smelled, or how he  _ looked  _ at her, even when he was buying votes on the Town Council and gentrifying her neighborhoods and  _ vanishing people in the middle of the night.  _

Seriously, she lived in Mystic Falls, not Twin Peaks. This was just getting  _ absurd.  _

***

_ Tonight.  _ Tonight was  _ her  _ night. Matt was on patrol, and she was off-duty, and her deputies knew not to call her unless there was a literal explosion, and Caroline looked  _ good.  _ Short dress, dark makeup, high heels,  _ good.  _ It felt like she’d been wearing her damn uniform so long that her skin had forgotten how it felt to be touched by anything but rigid khaki denim, every brush of air enough to make her shiver. 

Tonight, she wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Not her job, not her empty apartment, not  _ Klaus fucking Mikaelson-  _

“You look halfway to orgasming right here at this booth.” Katherine commented drily, taking a leisurely sip of her dry double martini from across the table, eyes scanning the menu before her with thinly-veiled disgust at the trans fats and grease that practically permeated the Mystic Grill. 

“Don’t pay her any mind, Care,” Enzo grinned, leering, at Katherine’s left.  _ He  _ was shoveling onion rings down between gulps of his third Guinness, a cliche of a man in his signature black leather jacket. “Go on, then, I’ll have what she’s having and all that,  _ When Harry Met Sally, _ give us a show.” 

Caroline scrunched up her nose at them both, taking another long sip of the luridly pink drink that Vicky had set down before her with a  _ on the house, Sheriff.  _ It tasted like sunscreen and bubblegum. Caroline missed  _ college.  _ She missed getting plastered and dancing on tables. 

Now, she was the one who would be called to get people  _ off  _ the tables. Drunk and disorderly, public intoxication, disturbing the peace, you name it. 

_ Fuck,  _ the drink was strong. Caroline felt heavy, soaring, buzzing just from the single glass of the stuff. Enzo and Katherine continued to bicker; Caroline let her gaze wander over the room. 

There, in the corner-  _ god,  _ what a dish. Hotter than anyone in the place, and  _ looking at her.  _ He gave her a grin, and his eyes flashed like Klaus’ did when he was leaning in close enough to kiss her during one of their arguments. Caroline… Caroline stood up. 

“Bathroom,” she mumbled, as Enzo and Katherine moved onto disparaging each others’ haircuts. 

Instead of actually going to the bathroom, Caroline bypassed the door altogether, walking out a little clumsily into the parking lot, out the same door that Tall, Dark, and Hot As Hell had gone after his little nod to her, daring her to follow. It had been entirely too long since she’d had  _ this-  _ sex, without strings or names or  _ anything.  _ The last time she’d slept with anyone, it had been Tyler Lockwood after yet another Founders’ Ball where she’d had to wear her uniform and run security at the Lockwood Mansion. She remembered how dowdy she’d felt, with her professional ponytail and ugly clothes on the edge of the dance floor, watching the couples waltz effortlessly through the figures she still knew by heart. 

“Oh!” She gasped, her wrist seized as she was dragged up against a hard, large body. It was him- Mr. Mystery, giving her a ravenous look that stirred something in the back of her mind even as she met his kiss with a moan, her wrist still held in a bruising grip that only tightened as he dragged her backwards like she weighed no more than a ragdoll. “Mmph!” She grunted in surprise when her back, bared by the slinky dress, made contact with the brick, scraping the delicate skin. 

She wasn’t being kissed anymore- not on her mouth. Instead, she was being  _ licked,  _ her throat messy with saliva and her knees going weak. Her back was ground even harder against the wall; she was sure she’d have scratches tomorrow. Her head was spinning. 

“S-slow down,” she tried, patting clumsily at the guy with her one free hand, dimly aware that she should definitely be more upset about this, more frightened, more- something. She had training. She’d been trained to- to  _ fight-  _

“Bad fucking idea, mate.” The voice sounded from the head of the alleyway, and Caroline wasn’t sure when they’d gone so far into the dark. The guy she was- hooking up with? Being assaulted by? He  _ growled,  _ like something  _ wild,  _ something  _ inhuman.  _

Suddenly he was off of her, away, and there was nothing but a wet-sounding  _ crack  _ before she was being picked up, her cheek tapped a few times. The face above her was familiar, but not enough to make her rouse herself too much. 

“Sheriff?” He had the same musical accent as Klaus, as Rebekah, as the rest of the Mikaelsons, and his fox face finally registered in her mind. Kol. Klaus’ next-youngest brother. “Sheriff, can you hear me?” 

Caroline nodded dimly, and then vomited all over his shirt.

***

“They’re getting bolder.” 

Caroline stirred feverishly, tucked up in a bed that did not belong to her, still mostly-asleep. The voices were coming from outside the room, barely audible through the cracked door. 

“Those two idiots aren’t enough to protect her anymore.” 

“If anything happens to her, he’ll-” 

“I know.” 

“‘Lijah, what do you suggest?” 

A sigh. “What else? We must let Niklaus be Niklaus.” 

_ Niklaus. _ The voice said it so musically. Caroline buried her face further into the fine cotton sheets and drifted down further again, away from the voices and their arguing. 

***

She woke slowly, her head pounding, all cottonmouth and sore limbs. 

She woke slowly, but she was Caroline Forbes, and so she already knew just from the feel of the ten thousand threadcount sheets beneath her cheek that she was not where she was supposed to be— i.e., her own bed. Or the floor of her own bathroom. Hell, even the backseat of her damn car. 

She suppressed a groan, and then realized that she was not alone. 

“Feeling better?” Klaus asked, from where he was sitting in a chair beside the bed, not even  _ pretending  _ to be abashed at how he was  _ literally drawing a picture of her while she was sleeping.  _ He was a psychopath. His weirdness knew no bounds. She was  _ in his bed.  _

“What the  _ hell,  _ Klaus?” She snapped, wincing at the things that the volume did to her already-aching brain. Klaus waved a hand to the night table where an unopened bottle of Aleve sat next to an equally-unopened bottle of water. 

She tried to glare at him but couldn’t, her hangover so wicked that it felt like she was stabbing herself in the eyes with bamboo shoots. Instead, she grudgingly downed a couple of the pain relievers and half the bottle of water in one go, pointedly ignoring that it was her preferred Dasani, not the cheaper off-brand kind sold by the Mystic Mart. 

“You need to be more careful, luv.” Klaus said finally, when she’d mustered up the strength to enter into one of their customary staring competitions. His eyes were so blue it made her sick. They flashed yellow again, and Caroline grimly wished it was a sign of some horrible disease like rabies or cat scratch fever. “Don’t accept drinks from strangers.” 

Caroline rolled her eyes. “I got the drink from  _ Vicky Donovan, _ Klaus.” She sneered, and then got up, staggering around until she found last night’s stilettos. In the room’s lone mirror, positioned in the corner where it couldn’t be accidentally seen, she looked like a wreck of epic, tragic proportions. Split ends and streaky mascara clumps and a greenish pallor from the nausea that being upright had brought. 

“Caroline.” Klaus said, suddenly behind her as she grasped the knob of the door. His body felt so good against her, cool and strong, like she could lean her feverish limbs up against him and just  _ rest  _ a while. “Be  _ careful.”  _ He almost growled the word, and Caroline’s thighs clenched together reflexively beneath her mussed slept-in skirt. 

“I don’t need you looking out for me, Klaus.” She insisted hotly. “I’m the goddamn  _ sheriff.”  _

***

Vicky Donovan went missing the next night. Caroline took down Matt’s report, unable to file it for another twenty-four hours, and fought at her own mounting dread while she did so. 

Klaus—  _ wouldn’t.  _

(Except,  _ oh.  _ Yes, yes he  _ would.  _ He was  _ evil.  _ Just because he had some weird  _ fascination  _ with her did not mean that he wasn’t evil, and she’d all but thrown Vicky into his path, hadn’t she?  _ Fuck.)  _

***

“I think you should take a vacation.” Katherine said brightly over the phone, as unlike herself as it was possible to be. 

Caroline sighed, signaling as she turned her cruiser down Fourth Street. “I can’t take a  _ vacation, _ Kath.” 

“Why not?” The other woman snapped, then sounding  _ very  _ much like herself and less like a pod person. 

“Vicky is  _ missing.  _ There have been all these  _ attacks—“  _

_ “Animal  _ attacks—“ Katherine interrupted. 

“See, that’s what everyone keeps saying, but I got a look at one of the bodies and it doesn’t look like any kind of animal attack  _ I’ve  _ ever seen.” Caroline argued, thinking of the clean, methodical wounds all centered around the major arteries. 

“Caroline—“

_ CRASH.  _

“Shit!” Caroline shrieked, swerving, as something— a bird, maybe? flew around the inside of her squad car, frantic and with wings full of broken glass from the window it had broken out. The car crashed into a fire hydrant; the airbags exploded out, knocking Caroline silly with their force. Water was spitting everywhere, soaking her hair. 

From the floor, lost in the rush, Katherine was shouting down the tinny speakers of her cellphone,  _ Caroline Caroline Caroline!  _

Caroline groaned, hands fumbling for the release on her seatbelt, before the door opened. 

“Call 911–“ she tried to order, her voice slurring, even as the world faded to black. 

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Caroline mumbled when she regained consciousness,  _ tied to a chair  _ in what looked like a sketchy warehouse. The single light bulb dangling above her head didn’t do much in the way of illumination, but she was going off of the concrete floors and general depressing odor. 

“This is a big mistake!” She called out, even as she took stock of her body and injuries and bindings. Her forehead ached, and her eyelashes felt crusty, so she assumed she had a gash of some kind from the airbag. Nothing else seemed to be wrong, except for a general ache she also attributed to the impact of the crash. Her bindings were rope, and tied tight. Still, rope wasn’t chains. She had a fighting chance, here. 

“See,” a voice said, drawling, from the darkness. “I don’t think it is.” 

He stepped into the light with a flourish, as if she were supposed to immediately recognize him. 

Caroline squinted. “Who the hell are you?” She asked, working her wrists in their bonds subtly to try and loosen them. 

The man huffed. “I am  _ Lucien.”  _ He said, and made another, smaller flourishing motion, like she would recognize the name. 

“Okay?” Caroline asked, drawing the word out obnoxiously. Just a little more, and then she’d have her arms free. Then she’d kick this guy’s ass and call for backup. He hadn’t even managed to find the gun strapped to her ankle. 

“I am Lucien, and I am here to—“ the man gurgled, choking, and Caroline blinked as blood appeared on his shirt, rapidly spoiling the white fabric. 

His body fell forward, revealing a man standing behind him in a neat suit, clutching a  _ heart.  _

_ Lucien’s  _ heart. 

“Are you alright, Sheriff Forbes?” Elijah Mikaelson asked her in his usual pleasant, bland sort of way. Not a hair out of place. A  _ heart  _ in his bloodied hand. 

“I hate you people.” Caroline stated flatly, after a long pause. 

Elijah didn’t seem offended. “My apologies.” He dropped the heart carelessly and cleaned off the gore with a  _ monogrammed handkerchief.  _

“‘Lijah, did you find her?” Rebekah Mikaelson called out, entering the warehouse wearing thoroughly impractical (and  _ gorgeous)  _ high heeled boots that made a rhythmic  _ clack  _ with each step she took. “Oh, good.” Rebekah stated when her gaze fell upon Caroline,  _ still bound to the chair.  _ She didn’t seem alarmed by the  _ dead body,  _ or the  _ heart  _ on the floor. 

Caroline hated the entire Mikaelson family. Except Henrik. He got a pass. He was just a kid, being raised by  _ psychopaths.  _

“I think she’s hyperventilating.” Rebekah pointed out casually, as if she were commenting on the weather. 

“Caroline.” Elijah said, standing before her, bent at the waist until he could force her to look in his eyes. His pupils constricted and then expanded, as if on cue.  _ “Sleep.”  _

*** 

“This is getting old  _ really fast.”  _ Caroline said, muffled, into the pillows on Klaus Mikaelson’s bed. 

She didn’t even have to look up to know Klaus was in the room with her. Of course he was. Probably he’d cut off a lock of her hair or something as a memento, the  _ absolute freak.  _

“My apologies.” Klaus’ voice was uncharacteristically tight. “Rebekah dressed you in some of her pajamas. For your comfort.” That would explain the silk camisole, Caroline thought sourly. All her pajamas nowadays were old department tee shirts and ratty cotton underwear. Once, she’d worn pretty floral sets by Laura Ashley and Liz Claiborne. They’d  _ matched.  _

Caroline had once been the kind of person who wore matching floral pajamas. 

Now she was the kind of person who kept  _ waking up in Klaus Mikaelson’s bed.  _

“If you’re planning to murder me like you murdered Vicky and all those other people, can you go ahead and get on with it?” She asked, flopping onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “All this  _ kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment  _ is really getting on my nerves. Cramping my style.  _ Freaking me out.”  _

“I’m not going to  _ murder  _ you, Caroline.” Klaus snarled, and then was  _ on the bed with her.  _ His hands were on her  _ face.  _ She was strangely unafraid, though he could quite easily decide to break her neck at any minute. 

“Then what do you  _ want,  _ Klaus?” She hissed back, teetering on the edge of realization. Of something  _ dangerous.  _ His body was so heavy where it was half on top of her. His eyes were flashing again, a growl building in his chest. 

_ “You, _ Caroline.” And she’d known it all along, hadn’t she? She’d known what he wanted when he looked at her, when he  _ courted her  _ with gifts of felons and confessions, when his siblings had evidently formed their own  _ Caroline Forbes Defense Squad,  _ as if she weren’t always armed and carrying all the authority of her badge. 

“Then do something about it,  _ Klaus.”  _ She whispered, trying to get him as torn up as she felt, as undone as she was every single damn time he said her name like  _ that,  _ like a caress. 

His kiss was a feral thing, toothsome and hard, though he still cradled her face like it was a precious treasure, a Faberge egg he didn’t want to risk injury to. There was something heady in that, being so thoroughly devoured while being so gently  _ held.  _

Caroline groaned, deep in her throat, her heart thudding  _ finally, finally, finally.  _ Nothing else mattered right now- not the kidnappings or the  _ animal attacks  _ or the fact that Klaus was  _ so evil.  _ It had been so long since she’d been touched, and even longer since she’d been touched like  _ this.  _

(Forever. She’d never been touched like  _ this.)  _

He drew her legs around his waist and she urged him on with the clamp of her thighs against his hips, her hands everywhere,  _ everywhere,  _ fumbling one-handed at his belt and tugging at his gingery hair. 

He kept saying her name into their kiss like a prayer. Like it was the holiest word in the whole world. 

When he pulled back enough to shove down his trousers, belt and all, his teeth were so very, very sharp. His eyes were so very, very yellow. 

Nothing mattered. Nothing except  _ this,  _ her borrowed pajamas torn to ribbons by his suddenly-sharp nails and his cock  _ inside her, _ chasing the pounding rhythm of her heart,  _ in in in, out out out,  _ her own blunt nails dragging down his back over the shirt he  _ still wore,  _ somehow. 

She came with his mouth carefully sucking a bruise onto her throat, hiding away those teeth she  _ knew  _ she hadn’t imagined, clutching him vice tight all over. 

“Caroline,” Klaus said, overwrought. Overcome. She was struck with the notion that he’d do anything for her, at this moment. Kill or maim or  _ anything.  _

She felt like a benevolent god, with all this power in her hands, in her  _ cunt.  _

“Come, Klaus.” She commanded almost deliriously, staring him down, yellow eyes on blue. 

He did as she said, like he’d been doing all along, really. 

_ Oh,  _ Caroline thought grimly, holding him to her chest as they both gasped for air in the aftermath.  _ Oh, I’m in love with him.  _

Dread filled her. 

***

“Caroline!” Enzo all but shouted when she came through the door of  _ her own apartment,  _ interrupting his restless pacing in the tiny matchbox kitchen. She’d sold the house she’d grown up in to a nice couple with two kids and a dog. There was nothing for her there anymore but memories and ghosts. 

Katherine appeared in the doorway to Caroline’s bedroom, like she’d been lurking in there. 

Why hadn’t she ever noticed how  _ absolutely freaky  _ her friends were? When had they even  _ become  _ her friends? Had she ever seen them talking to  _ literally anyone else?  _

(What had ever happened to Bonnie and Elena? There were pictures of them hanging on Caroline’s  _ literal walls.)  _

“Care.” Katherine said, stepping forward with one arm outstretched. 

“No.” Caroline said, putting up both hands. “No, you’re going to-”  _ and  _ her phone was ringing. She couldn’t even get a full  _ sentence _ out before being  _ interrupted.  _

“Sheriff Forbes.” She barked down the line, answering it with an aggressive punch of her thumb. 

“Care, Care, you won’t believe it!” Matt’s voice shone with golden tones like cathedral bells chiming. Joy effused through every word. “Vicky’s back!” 

She hung up on him. She took a deep breath. 

Everything felt so,  _ so  _ wrong. 

“You’re going to tell me everything you know about vampires.” Caroline said.

***

_ if i had a voice,  _

_ i’d sing. _

**Author's Note:**

> CHARACTER (CAROLINE) IS 'ROOFIED' BY ANOTHER CHARACTER AS PART OF A SUPERNATURAL PLOT TO DRINK HER BLOOD/ATTACK HER TO GET TO KLAUS. CAROLINE IS NOT AWARE THAT SHE HAS BEEN DRUGGED. SHE IS SAVED BEFORE ANY INJURY OCCURS.


End file.
